


Pyrexia's Delusion

by The_Raven_Wendigo



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Anorexia, Bulimia, Canon Universe, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Eating Disorders, I'll add more as I progress, Yurio needs some love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2018-09-23 20:45:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9675767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Raven_Wendigo/pseuds/The_Raven_Wendigo
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky spirals out of the control he tried so hard to hold onto, the one that created the perfection he showed everyone in his skating, the blades he danced on, he would evolve further."The ever evolving monster that is Yuri Plisetsky."Yuri's behaviour becomes erratic, and people begin to worry.





	1. Chapter 1

“Yuuri!~”

Viktor sang, pulling on the blanket that gave Yuuri a layer of warm protection from the winter chill. He protested with a soft grumble, then a squeal of embarrassment, jumping up from underneath the sheets, gathering them close to his chest. “V-Viktor!! What are you doing in here?!” Viktor smiled, “Time for training, let's keep you in shape my little prince!” He jokily poked Yuuri's tummy, (Even though his little chub was long gone.) through the bundle of sheets. “Get dressed!” Viktor called and left the bedroom.

Yuuri uncurled himself from his blankets,crawling to the other side of the bed to scramble for his blue rimmed glasses on his desk, he pushed the bridge to the top of his nose, blinking the blurriness away, he looked out the window and sighed at the thick snow that had settled, he puffed out his cheeks. Moving across his room, grabbing his blue and black jacket, the jersey fabric was stretchy and fit snugly on his now toned body, he fastened the zip and pulled on his trousers, kicking a pair of trainers out from underneath his bed, slipping them onto his feet, tying the lace quickly. He pocketed his phone and followed Viktor’s voice.

“Viktor?”

He looked around, “Where did you-?” He jumped out of his skin, nearly losing his glasses off his nose, Viktor's hand softly gripped Yuuri's shoulder “Good morning sleepy head.”

He leant over and whispered, his other fingers curling around Yuuri's soft hair. “You ready? he cuddled around his middle causing Yuuri to squirm in his arms, Viktor laughed softly. “Come on little piggy.” He spoke, leading Yuuri outside with Makkachin following happily behind the two of them. “Hey, Viktor isn't Yurio coming out to join us?” Yuuri pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose. Viktor mounted his sunshine yellow bike, “I asked him, he was in the bathroom, he screamed at me to go away and leave him alone so….” he over dramatised the situation to cause Yuuri to break into a grin. (Yuri was actually quiet and disheartened in his reply to Viktor that morning.) “that's Yurio for you.” Viktor began pedaling, cycling off down the bridge, Makkachin pounding behind.

“Come on Yuuri!~” Yuuri’s jaw dropped, he ran after Viktor in a sudden succession, he wanted to catch up with him, a small competitive smirk tweaking the corners of his mouth, his eyes staying as innocent as his large glass heart, for Viktor, he would do anything.

\---------

 

“I’ve always been intrigued about you Yuuri, you have so much potential, I wish to unlock it all.” He and Viktor had begun to head back from their long day of training, Viktor wheeled his bright yellow bike and had Makkachin running ahead and rushing inside to the inviting warmth of Yuuri’s family and home.

Yuuri turned to smile at Viktor who was looking ahead, eyes sincere, admiring the soft golden lights that hung outside the house in the darkening sky, He sighed softly. Yuuri blinked and lifted his hand as he flicked pale white snowflakes from Viktor's soft silver hair. Viktor turned to him, “Huh?” Yuuri's expression changed to shock, “O-Oh! sorry! I-I” Viktor merely smiled “Shhh.” he pressed thumb to Yuuri’s mouth, brushing gently across his soft upper lip, lifting his other hand to tassel Yuuri's messy black hair to shake out the snowflakes that settled, “Let's go in and eat, I’ll get little kitten from his room to join us yes?” he asked, tilting his head. Yuuri nodded with a rosy blush, leading the both of them inside.

 Viktor began slipping off his coat, shaking it slightly, dispersing the glints of ice into the air to melt instantly, he wrapped the coat over his arm and held it close as he watched Yuuri, rushing in to greet his parents after a long day, Viktor smiled, leaving the three of them to go in search of the Russian tiger.

 He approached the room Yuri was staying in, he knocked a few times, opening the door, he spied the small blonde scrolling through his phone absently. “Yuri, it's lunch time.” Yuri didn't look up from his phone. “tell the pork cutlet I'm not hungry.” He answered Viktor in monotone, Viktor wouldn't stand for that. “You have to eat, it's polite, Yuuri's parents have cooked Katsudon and it would rude to refuse, I know you love it really.” Yuri met Viktor’s eyes, he rolled himself off the bed and walked past Viktor.

 

 Yuri didn't like being rude. Not really anyway, he just kinda snaps. For his first couple of days at the inn he felt fine, he was able to eat the way he loved and used to be able to but then it hit him like a slap round the cheek, sneaking off to the corner shop in the dead of the night, filling his arms with anything cheap that was edible, it didn't matter if he didn't like it. He swallowed anxiously, his mind replaying the memory of forcing the disgusting food down his throat with uncontrollable motive, sitting on his bed, eating until it was too uncomfortable to carry on. It had sat inside him heavy.

It was rotting him from the inside, a substance that is capable of causing the illness or death of a living organism, yet that was living. Consuming.

He’d spent hours in that bathroom, silently ridding himself of his distress no matter how long it took.

 His feet took him to the rest of the family, he smiled at them, staring wide eyed at the array of beautifully presented food the Katsuki’s had invited him to eat with them, in the small family circle he had been so kindly enveloped into, a warm arm wrapped around his shoulder, snapping him back to the moment.

“Yurio? You okay? You look dazzled!”

Viktor chimed, holding a glass of what seemed like white wine. The pig better not touch that stuff, Yuri thought to himself. Viktor edged him to sit around the small table, he kneeled. Gulping down his anxiety as he tried wonder how he would eat the Katsudon in front of him.

He pressed his hand against the table, bending his fingers around the chopsticks he struggled to hold. “oh! Yurio, we have cutlery for you if you’d like.” Mari handed him a set of silverware, he thanked subconsciously and set them aside his bowl. He held the wooden sticks and rubbed his thumb over the engravings at each end. Holding them crossed and hesitant over his food.

He could do it. Maybe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He couldn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!  
> Graphic deceptions of purging  
> Read with caution!
> 
>  
> 
> ((comments appreciated!))

So sweet and succulent. The pork cutlet and creamy egg. Enthralled his tongue like the little piggy tried to entice men in his routine.

 

Shit, this was bad, it was wrong. Hot springs on ice was only a few days away and Yuri had let himself eat such an oleaginous dish. He had crammed each piece of consumable fat into his maw like an animal and only now, while kneeled at the table, did it dawn upon him.

Limp blonde hair ending mid-way between his chin and shoulder, covering his frowning features as his skin turned a stark white with guilt.

He swallowed, not aware of the silence that fell in-between his last mouthful and the chatter of the table. Attention was turned to him, he willed himself to swat it away with a rudely placed 'What are you looking at?!’, but it never came. He couldn't, that wasn't him. Not really anyhow.

 

His legs kicked out from underneath him, his body heaving itself from the floor in a singular sluggish motion as one arm snapped tightly to his stomach, he felt the soft, uncomfortable swell of food sit inside. 

 

How repulsive. The fairy of Russia gorging himself until his own little wings couldn't lift the hefty weight it's slender body had become.

 

“Yurio?...” Viktor mumbled.

 

“Yuri!” Yuuri called.

 

“Poor boy, he must be coming down with something.” Yuuri’s mother commented concerned.

 

Viktor and Yuuri exchanged a glance, watching the blonde boy speed down the corridor, bare feet tapping the wooden floor.

 

The others began gathering the array of empty bowls and used chopsticks, taking them to the kitchen while Viktor and Yuuri tidied the table. “Do you think he's okay?...” Yuuri's voice quivered, Viktor tried to reassure the nervous tone. “I'm sure he's fine, maybe he just needs some alone time?... We'll check on him in a half hour okay?” he was worried himself but tried not to smother the other Russian in affection he would instantly reject. Yuuri quietened down and nodded, adjusting his glasses over his doe eyes. Sitting by Viktor, flicking through the channels of the television with the remote, a single hand resting on the table,index finger tapping every half second on the solid wood until another hand joined it. Not to tap but to quench the anxiety spike from the other. Viktor may not know what to say but he radiated comfort.

  
  


Yuri beseeched himself to the pitiful comfort of the toilet bowl, the door behind him locked with a distinctive click. His body racking as he dry heaved into his porcelain crown. Panic subsided, he stood shakily to his knees and noted his surroundings, his hands grasped the roll of diamond quilted toilet tissue, he tugged a square from the roll, spitting the beginnings of bile into his covered palm, he balled it up and threw it into the toilet. 

 

His breath hiccuped, feeling heavy toxins rise in his throat, food was horrid really, yet this addiction for satisfaction, to drown one's thirst for pleasure from being satisfied was a despicable human instinct. A selfish one at that. 

 

Selfish. That's what he was, disgustingly selfish. Ridding himself of food that could have fed grateful mouths rather than a privileged boy, who was given food, warmth and hospitality unconditionally. 

Him being chosen for Agape was some kind of pathetic joke Viktor’s absolutely brilliant mind came up with. A harsh one too. How could he ever be so unconditional when he did something so selfish every single night? He could never see both, just one. The one he couldn't escape from.

  
  


Tears welled in his eyes as his chest tightened, he needed it out. He felt the acid bubbling away at each separate piece that lay in his pit. His eyes turned to the toilet but then he thought of the thinner walls this inn was home too and thought better of his usual place, retreating behind a shower curtain with hot water stimulating the sickness and blanking the sound under steam and noise.

His frantic limbs undressed him like he was a toy, hands fumbling for the dial that turned the water on. His fingers grasped around the dial as his hand twisted in the direction of opening whatever valve controlled it. For a moment his back burned under the heat, soon that didn't matter.

 

The fingers of his left hand had slid softly down the back of his throat, he pushed at the sensitive muscle until he was thrown forward by the force of a retch, it was followed twice more in succession before anything was brought up. Then his hands were filled with the half digested mush of what remained of that pork cutlet bowl. 

A cough harrowed through his form, catching him by surprise. He turned his head to face the direction of the water and he opened his mouth, catching whatever he could before swallowing the hot shower water. His palm pushed around his stomach before his fingers pushed themselves back into the pit of his throat and heaved the contents of his stomach to paint a pretty picture on the shower floor. 

 

The water was finally switched off, the remainder of vomit fished out the drain and ran down the toilet. His head softly spun while his skin re adjusted to the cooler air. He slid his back against the shower wall, his heart thumping behind his ribs, the strain put on it was bad, causes damage long term. That didn't matter right now, he just needed to keep breathing. Which he did wonderfully, he pulled a towel around his small waist and brought his clothes closer. The mirror told him a different story to what he was. As a child he'd sit in front of the reflective pane and beg for more stories, even though they were never true. 

 

He was stopped in corridor by a pair of soft rounded hands checking his temperature. Mama Katsuki. His eyes fell half lidded, sinking into her motherly touch. “Yurio dear, go lay down, you are feverish!” She announced, her son coming down the hallway, helping the Yuri (Whom had not caught up with the present yet.) To bed. 

 

Yuri was confused and tired, he felt his body be placed on the mattress that held his own magnitude of blankets and plushies. His head ached harshly, the Katuski's left a glass of water by his bedside and began to leave the room, he thanked through his confusion and sipped the water they gave him.

  
Sleep wanted to take him quickly tonight, he had done well, so empty inside. Perfect. He would dream well tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you or anyone you know is suffering from an ED do not hesitate to get help, its so debilitating, it just isn't worth living with, please stay safe guys


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, haha  
> Apologies, I just never really found the time or motivation for this but here I am, trying again ;)
> 
> Stay safe y'all

However, Yuri began training again the next day regardless of the tingly feeling that numbed his extremities the next morning.

He had pulled his knees close to his chest, rubbing his eyes with the base of his palm, he cleared his sore throat and cupped the near-empty glass with chilled slender fingers. Cool liquid soothing his throat for a moment. He coughed and wiped his mouth, turning behind him, to open the curtain, leeching bright sunlight into his borrowed room. 

He clambered off the bed and unzipped the smaller compartment of his leopard print suitcase to find a clean pair of thick Jersey leggings, he pulled them over his lower limbs and layered up with his usual hoodie and jacket. Slinging his skating bag over his shoulder and pushing his feet into his shoes without untying them and, like a small child, scuffing them as he approached the door until the back of his heel slipped into the correct place.

He pushed open his door silently, dragged his feet along with him, pulling out his face mask and slipping it over his mouth. He pulled out his phone and ignored the growing number of texts from Yakov, scrolling through his numerous social media accounts and cringing at the posts by his fans, he really wished they didn't like him, it felt awkward sometimes, he wasn't good enough to have these people having any sort of dedication to him, not to mention it creeped him out.

He snapped out of his momentary distraction and approached the front door, he took the handle with his grip, shutting it quietly behind him as his face gets the full brunt of bitter morning air. He snagged on the top of his hoodie, bringing it over his mouth as he strode faster to reach to reach the rink, bleated by harsh whistles of winds as he trekked over the bridge.

When he arrived at the rink he spotted a sleepy Yuuko cleaning skates. 

 

“Yuuko? You look exhausted….you okay?” He asked quietly, his accent soft, a rare sensitivity in his voice. 

She waves a polite hello to Yuri. “Yeah I'm fine! Late night and not enough shut eye!” She smiled brightly. “Early morning for you too? Isn't Sunday your guys day off from training?”

Yuri nodded. “Yeah, but I wanted a head start on pork cutlet bowl and old man.” He gave a small smirk. “Want me to help clean the skates before I head up onto the rink?” He asked, she shook her head gently. “Quicky, go on up.” She gave a wink, not charging him for entry.   
He gave a gently breathy nod and headed up to the changing room, he unzipped his skating bay and brought out his black skates, removing the soft guard, feeling a thumb gently across the blade, he'd need to sharpen them soon. Leaning back and sighing, stretching. Brought about a bout of fuzziness as tension was released from his muscles.

He kicked off his shoes and switched his socks for thinner nylon ones, he ran his hand over the calluses of his damaged thin feet, it was something he'd gladly give to be as elegant as possible on the ice, with his weight receding it would become the uppermost perfection.

His finger ran over a particularly sore blister on the bone of his big toe, he hissed and strapped a plaster to it, slipping into his tightening skate, he couldn't afford a new pair so soon, this change, this growth. It was frightening.   
Being told in his youth how thin and frail skaters desired to be for the success of jumps and how lucky he was to have such talent and such form so easily, began to blossom into a fear of change, a fear of what he is seemingly loved for being ripped from from his body, if it continues, he would no longer be a fairy.

He edged his way to the ice, feeling his blades chip onto the ice with a distinctive yet comforting scratch, his feet twirled as he warmed up, figures of eight, forward and backward crossovers, he felt the dull ache in the muscles of his stomach from the night before as he held his core for posture correction.

Ah, posture. Something Yakov nagged about continuously, he might as well have had stuck a rod down Yuri's back with the sheer volume of complaints.  
He took his Agape position on the ice, mumbled in counts of eight as he followed his recount of Viktor's steps, his near perfect technique, yet still a mere imitation. He seemed lacked or denied the heart needed, the latter fitting the bill.

He didn't get it.

/Agape? Innocence? What a fucking joke./

The more he dwelled on the meaning behind the more often he'd see these flashes of memory, holding his grandpa's hand in the bitter cold, winning his first medal, getting Potya for his birthday and his Mother.

/No stop it, don't think about her. She's nothing./

 

His chest heaved with the expulsion of force, he drew an icy breath into his throat and felt it sting as he slowed down, wheezing.

He held tightly onto the edge of the rink, head down between his knees as he breathed deeply to try and lessen the tightness in his chest and the pounding of his heart in his head, he shut his eyes and brought his head up, blonde hair sitting just under his sharp chin, he wiped his mouth and turned to the sound of the door opening. 

Viktor standing, crossed armed and staring cold at Yuri from the double doors of the rink, the same distaste of eyes he'd known before but with more concern than anger. 

/Shit./

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what this is at the moment, I'm hoping I can develop it further into a novel, This will be based off my own experiences with an ED I hope that no one gets offended or severely upset by anything that is involved into this fic, I will warn when chapters will become graphic.


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